Unnerving Encounters
by demonarsekickers
Summary: This is a story about a girl called Darcy Maiton who gets sat next to Draco Malfoy in potions class. To them this is the most catastrophic event that could of occurred because Malfoy is a slytherin who despises all muggle born witches and wizards whilst Darcy is a gryffindor, shy and a muggle born which also makes her an ideal target for Draco to pick on her...


**Disclaimer - the wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling not me! **

**A/N - so this is my Harry Potter fanfiction that's written just by me rather than by me and Katie like Winchester Wings. I hope you enjoy and follow, favourite and review so I know that you want me to update. If this isn't as popular I might just update it every now and then rather than updating it every week! **

Groaning I stretched in my bed as the alarm clock blared loudly in my ear most likely not just waking me up, but the whole street. Beep. Beep. Beep. I just wanted to throw the damn thing out of the window. I sat up groaning as I brought a hand up to my head sleep trying to pull me under again. Grabbing a hair bobble from the little, light, blue pottery tub that rested on my bedside table I slipped it on my wrist to tie my hair up later. I approached my wardrobe opening the doors praying that nothing would fall out or off of a hanger: I started to flick through the clothes that inhabited the tall, wooden box finding a deep, jade, green t shirt that I paired with dark, blue denim shorts and black, plain leggings. Compared to most girls I didn't spend a lot of money on clothes, I mainly spent the the money that I earned from my day job at the book shop on DVDs, CDs and most importantly books. Many people didn't understand why I had so many books and why I read a lot. The answer is simple - a mind can come up with many worlds and characters and the ones who write it down, who record their thoughts, can transport other people to the land that they were thinking of at the time. Books let you imagine what your favourite character looks like and interpret what you want, how you want, when you want all from one persons vision. I want to do that someday to have just one person interpret what they think the image that I've created is meant to look like. As I'm thinking this I wonder over to the mirror to finish getting ready for the day, my wavy, light, brown hair hits the middle of my back. I need a hair cut. I decide to french plait my hair and separate it down the middle parting pulling each of the three strands. First piece of hair over the middle, back piece of hair into the middle, add some more. After two minutes the french plait starts to take shape and my hair become shorter as it is pulled and adjusted into the braid. Just as I finish plaiting the second side of my hair my mother knocks on my bedroom door.

"Darcy, breakfast's ready! Hurry or Thomas will eat it all." Mum almost shouts her notification despite her being just outside of my door.

I let out a laugh as I think of Thomas attempting to persuade mum to let him eat my breakfast that most likely consists of cereal and a cup of tea.

"Coming mum! Don't let the rascal eat my breakfast or else we'll have to have yet another foam sword fight to settle the situation that may arise if he lays a finger on my cereal."

"Oh honey, not another sword fight; the last one ended up with me having to fix the light bulb that got mysteriously broken," Mum shouts back as her voice gets quieter and her footsteps become more prominent as she walks past my door and walks down the beige carpeted stairs.

I open my door and feel the plush carpet beneath my feet as I make my way to the steep, but narrow staircase and start to descend down them, making my way to the kitchen that must look like a battlefield if Thomas is in there. As I step through the door way into the off white wallpapered room I flinch at the coldness of the black and white tiled floor that resembles more of a chess board than a kitchen floor. Thomas sits on one of the stools that is tucked slightly under the grey, marble kitchen island his eight year old head bobbing away as he listens to the music blaring from the radio that mum has turned on.

"Hey Tommy." I smile as he raises his little, blonde head to look at me with a confused look. Despite Thomas and I being brother and sister we looked nothing alike Thomas is fair haired, brown eyed, sort of like a mini surfer dude, and small for his age, whereas I'm too tall for my age with dark wavy hair and bright blue eyes. A mischievous look graces Thomas's features as he waits for me to speak again.

"So... I hope you've not touched my breakfast, little dude!" I give him a pointed look changing his mischievous features to a worried expression, "For if one has, then one must challenge thee to a battle of strength and wit to get revenge for a certain eight year old scoffing my cereal!" Thomas smiles, his whole face lighting up I walk over to him and ruffle his blonde locks.

I stalk over to the microwave to see if my breakfast is waiting for me to turn the dial on the microwave and warm it up. Thankfully it is so I won't have to waste extra time pouring more cereal and walking to the local corner shop to pick up another carton of milk that we were most likely out of. I push the button on the microwave that says cereal and turn the silver dial to 1 minute 15 seconds and push it in ensuring that my cereal warms up.

A little voice pipes up behind me as I realise that Thomas has snuck up to me as I was engrossed in the proper heating up of coco pops, "Darce? Can I have some toast?" Tom's chocolate brown eyes look up at mine pleading that I'll make him something else for breakfast.

"Hey little dude. Have you already had any breakfast?" I shoot him a suspicious look.

"Mummy made me some toast, but she put butter on instead of Nutella so I gave it to Charlie." Thomas rubs his eyes and looks at me with a puppy dog look glinting in his eyes. He knew that no one could resist that look when he turned it on them.

"Fine, Tommy." He grins at me as I look at him, "But Tom? You can't give Charlie a whole round of toast because he's a doggy and dogs don't eat food like what we eat because it could make them poorly." Thomas nods at me and runs back to the stool grabbing a colouring book and pencils on his way from a pile of random things on the counter top by the sink.

I get to work on Thomas's toast as he hums along to the radio. I start to walk over to the cupboard that contains the Nutella. At least I hope it contains the Nutella. Pinging the microwave notifies me that my coco pops are finished, but I concentrate on putting a round of bread into the toaster. When I am confident that the toaster is working and the bread is going to toast I take a seat next to my brother and tuck into the cereal before school. The chocolatey goodness overwhelms my senses as I realise just how long it's been since I actually sat down and ate with my brother despite his toast not being finished yet. As I'm devouring my breakfast the toast dings and the bread pops up. Rising from my stool I make my way across the kitchen and pick up the steaming bread as I walk over to the cutting board. I bounce the toast into my hands as it starts to burn. Thomas laughs as I juggle his breakfast. Finally getting to the cutting board I smother the toast with Nutella and out it on Tom's favourite Spider-Man plate. Personally I preferred marvel than DC but at least he was into comics. I guess we were similar in that way. That we both loved reading. Tom grinned a toothy smile at me showing me where his wobbly tooth had nearly come out as he waited for me to give it to him.

"Thanks Dar." I kiss Thomas on the head and head into the living room to watch some tv before I was stranded without it at a school in the country. Boarding school, you may ask. No I'm going to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry for my sixth year training to be one of the best witches in the world. Today is September the first which means that I need to go to Kings Cross station to catch my train on platform 9 3/4. And yes platform 9 3/4 is a real platform. I just find an episode of Doctor Who that the BBC are replaying when mum calls from in the porch.

"Darcy! Thomas! It's time to go."

With that shout I get excited. I'm going back to my second home. My life away from reality I suppose.


End file.
